


next to you is where i call home

by thegrayness



Series: with our hands over our hearts [2]
Category: Schitt's Creek
Genre: Cooking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, House Hunting, House Party, M/M, Moving In Together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-31
Updated: 2019-05-31
Packaged: 2020-03-30 20:58:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19035499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrayness/pseuds/thegrayness
Summary: “Okay, but—the tile samples.” David gestured wildly, wrists reaching Alexis-levels of limpness. “The tile samples are here, right?”--David and Patrick buy, renovate, and make their house a home.





	next to you is where i call home

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so. The reason I wrote the first part of this series (you give the light i need) was because I wanted to get to a very specific scene that's only like 200 words that I didn't feel could stand on its own. And that scene just never made it into the first fic. So I decided I would write something else to hopefully incorporate that scene--and that's what this fic is. I don't LOVE it, I will be honest, it's a little long and I feel like it drags, but I worked really hard on it, and I'm not in a place to just toss something I spent weeks on. And then I went back and forth about chapters vs. one-shot and so on and here I've landed. Everyone in this fandom is so sweet so thanks for that. 
> 
> The title of this fic is from the song Drummer Boy by Misterwives, and the title of the series is from their song Our Own House.

 

+++

 

Closing was scheduled for a Tuesday, which Patrick found inconvenient since it was their third most profitable day. David tried to tell him that he would work at the store so it could stay open, but Patrick was insistent. 

“David, we both have to sign the papers because it’s our house.” They were going through their end-of-day routine at the store, and Patrick was flinging his broom-holding hand around. David grabbed the handle and leaned it against the wall before Patrick brought down their whole seasonal display. He put his hands on Patrick’s shoulders to steady him.

“Why can’t we just do the closing here, we can use the back office and close for like an hour?”

“I don’t know David, it seems like they already scheduled it, I don’t know why Ray didn’t talk to us—”

“I’m going to call him. He’s our realtor, he should be able to make this easier for us.” He gave Patrick a quick kiss and walked to the back, pulling out his cellphone along the way.

Patrick returned to his post-workday chores, but David reemerged a few minutes later. Patrick couldn’t help but shoot him a hopeful look from across the store.

“Ray’s coming by in 10 minutes with the paperwork for us to sign and then he’ll go to the closing on Tuesday. We can stay at the store. Did you re-cap all the samples yet?”

Patrick stared at his fiance. He sometimes forgot how well David was able to work with their business partners. He wasn’t usually there when David visited vendors, so he didn’t get to see him in action that often, but he should know by now. Despite all the minor inconveniences that "distressed" David, he was quite determined.

“What?” David asked when Patrick didn’t respond or stop staring.

“Thank you, David,” he said, emotion leaking into his words like it always did when he thought about how much he loved the man in front of him.

David rolled his eyes, cheeks pinking the way Patrick loved and turned away to fuss with the hand cream samples. Patrick smiled to himself and got back to cleaning the floors. They continued their routines in companionable silence until the bell over the door rang.

Ray’s voice filled the store. “Okay, who is ready to buy a house!”

 

+++

 

“This list is long,” David commented, gesturing to the pad of paper on Patrick’s coffee table.

“I know, David,” Patrick responded from his spot by the door where he was pulling on his sneakers. He and Ronnie had combined their teams so they could join a regional league and every other game was out of town.

“The inspection brought out a few more things that we’d need to be done, but that is the nature of buying a house that needs repairs.” Patrick sounded exhausted just talking about it.

David hummed in agreement, pulling the list closer. He thought they might be able to complete some of them after they moved. He was still reading over the list when Patrick came over to kiss him goodbye.

“Good luck, honey.” David's mouth curled into a smirk. He knew Patrick blushed every time he pulled out that particular pet name.

Patrick was out the door and David grabbed his laptop. He flexed his fingers, hesitating. Was he really going to do this? He took a deep breath and opened up Google Sheets. 

 

David was dozing on the couch as _Two Weeks Notice_ played on the small TV in the living room when Patrick returned. He had his laptop on his chest, but the screen was dark and one of his arms was hanging off the couch cushions. Patrick dropped his bag inside the door and toed off his shoes.

Waking David was always a bit of a gamble, and Patrick had the bruises to prove it. But letting David sleep on a couch that was too short for his frame would lead to _Sore Muscle David._ Patrick was willing to risk personal injury to avoid _that_ person.

He closed the lid of the laptop and moved it to the coffee table to charge. He slid his palm along David’s cheek and let his fingers dip into his hairline. He whispered a soft _‘David’_ and his fiancé’s eyes fluttered open, body jerking a little at the sudden presence of another person. 

“What time is it?” David’s voice was rough with sleep as he stretched languidly along the couch.

“Eleven-ish.” 

David made a humming sound that Patrick took to mean ‘ _okay great I’m going back to sleep,’_ so he gave David’s shoulder a small shake. “C’mon let’s go to bed,” he murmured, tugging on David’s arm to make sure he didn’t fall asleep again.

David grumbled but let Patrick move him. “ _You_ go to bed.” He sounded petulant.

Grinning to himself, Patrick got David tucked in and pressed a smooch to his forehead. He changed into his own pajamas and slid in next to his fiance just as David let out a soft snore.

 

Sunday mornings were Patrick’s favorite—and he was sure David would agree—because they got to wake up on their own. Well. _Patrick_ woke up on his own, made himself tea, set up the coffee maker, and started breakfast. Then he woke up David. He’d cleared this routine with David when they first started dating. Should Patrick eat breakfast without him? Or should Patrick cut David’s sleep short in the name of food? One could never be too careful with David Rose.

David made it clear that he prioritized food over almost everything else in his life. Except for Patrick (most of the time).

So, on Sundays Patrick had his routine. He woke David with ease letting the smell of coffee do most of the work for him. He left him in bed with his mug, blearily blinking across the apartment to watch Patrick finish cooking. (It wasn't always cooking—sometimes it was fruit and granola and yogurt, or cheese and crackers (any food is breakfast food, Patrick, we’re grown-ups), or toast and jam).

David gave his usual commentary on Patrick’s food preparation technique. His tone was light and teasing, but Patrick knew David took everything food-related seriously.

Once Patrick was about to plate their food, David started _his_ Sunday routine. He rolled out of bed, bringing his nearly empty mug with him to the kitchen, where he pressed his body into Patrick’s against the counter. Patrick wrapped him up in his arms, enjoying how Morning David always seemed to be so much smaller than all the other Davids he’d come to know. Morning David was somehow short enough to tuck his head beneath Patrick’s chin and snuggle into the familiar warmth of him. Enough to inhale the soft smell of their bed where it clung to the collar of his t-shirt.

For his part, Patrick rested one hand at the back of David’s neck and the other against the small of his back. He slipped his fingertips beneath the sweater David wore on nights he thought he might get cold. Even though it was nearing the middle of summer and Patrick wasn't even sleeping with pants anymore.

After several minutes (and sometimes several more) David lifted his head and kissed him, lips soft from his nighttime moisturizing. They kissed slowly, the slowest, like the reason they even got out of bed was to make out in the kitchen before breakfast and the rest of the day together was just a happy accident. David’s hands found their way between Patrick and the edge of the counter, and he started to stand up straighter, making Patrick tilt his head up slightly. David was more alert, now that he’d had coffee and hugs and kisses, and so he pressed his hips against Patrick’s, a tease, so he could hear his fiance suck in a sharp breath against his lips and feel his mouth curl into a grin.

“Good Morning, David.”

 

Patrick was finishing the last few bites of his waffle as David started to clear the table. “Oh, hey, where’s that list of renovations I made last night? I wanted to go over it to see if I missed anything and then talk to Ronnie.”

“Oh!” David had forgotten all about his Google Sheets adventure the night before. “I have something for you.” He grabbed his laptop from the living room.

Patrick slowed his chewing, and his expression morphed into one of confusion. “On the computer?” He asked, unable to hide the skepticism in his tone.

“I can _use_ a computer, you know,” David replied, offended, and scooted his chair over so they could both look at the screen. Patrick just grinned at him. “ _Anyway_ ,” he went on, “I put all the renovations on this list, and then emailed Ronnie for very rough estimates on them, so I could add those here,” he pointed to a column titled _$$ $._

Patrick’s eyes were wide, but David continued.

“And so we can sort by that if we want. But I also categorized them by ones we have to do _before_ we move in, like the downstairs floors, and the kitchen—and those are pink here—and then we can do these in blue after, like the fireplace refinishing. Oh and I have another column for upstairs, downstairs, or exterior, I don’t know if that matters?”

“You...made me a spreadsheet?” Patrick’s voice was so awe-filled, you’d think David had presented him with the moon. David felt his face heat up—or was it the sweater?—and he twisted his mouth to stay the smile that threatened to split his face right in two.

He cleared his throat. “It’s nothing, I thought it might be useful because you seemed pretty exhausted talking about it last night and your eye bags tell the same story—here let me get you some serum—”

Patrick grabbed David’s wrist before he could launch into a full skincare lecture as he often did. “David,” he paused to look at him for a second. “This is _not_ nothing.”

 

+++

 

They moved in as soon as Ronnie finished the kitchen, per David’s spreadsheet. They'd managed to rope Stevie, Twyla, Alexis, and Ted into helping with the actual Moving Day. They didn’t have much stuff, honestly, but David had arranged to have a few pieces of furniture delivered that day. _“A king-sized bed, Patrick, I can’t stand another night on your sad, full-sized lump.”_

Even that would have been easy enough with the two of them, but David secretly thought that Patrick wanted all their friends together for the occasion. Plus Patrick ordered Thai takeout so David wasn’t about to comment. 

Alexis was the most unhelpful moving day attendee ever since all she did was take pictures of everyone moving boxes to post them to her IG story with captions like _“helping our button face move in today!”_ with zero mention of David _her brother._

Once Alexis and Ted headed home, Stevie helped them clear the takeout containers from the kitchen. She was uncharacteristically quiet and had only made fun of David like 5 times during the whole day.

Patrick, 5 beers gone, said goodnight to her and headed up to try and find some pajamas in the clothes piles. In _his_ clothes piles. David’s clothes were _not_ in piles.

“Okay, what’s going on?” David turned toward Stevie and leaned his hip against the counter.

“What?”

“You’re being weird, what’s going on?”

“ _You’re_ being weird.”

David arched an eyebrow at her, waiting.

“This place is pretty far out, huh?”

David pressed his lips together and felt his nostrils flare as he tried not to grin at Stevie’s predictable uneasiness with emotion. “Mmhmm, I suppose. It’s not as close as, say, the motel.”

Stevie rolled her eyes. “I have to drive out here.”

“A serious inconvenience.”

“I can’t just walk over to your room. Or the store.”

“Well you can still walk to the store...and we’ll still be there. Like every day.”

Stevie said nothing but continued to fuss with the dishes and takeout containers that were strewn across the counter.

David sat down at the peninsula, in one of the beat-up chairs they borrowed from the Cafe that Twyla said they could use until he chooses theirs. “I’m getting serious “I’ll miss you” vibes, here.”

Stevie scoffed. “Can’t imagine why. I’m glad you’ll be far away.”

“I’m—sure. But in case you’re... _not_. Glad. I’m _pretty sure_ you can’t get rid of me, so. Sorry to—disappoint?”

“Yeah like—like a gnat or something,” Stevie mumbled, crossing her arms and looking out the window. “Annoying.”

David was pretty sure she was talking about feelings, and not about him. He stood up and rounded the counter to stand next to her.

She kept looking away, avoiding his gaze. She spoke, “If you tell anyone about this I will murder you—” and then she wrapped him up in a really, really tight, really, really short hug. She pulled away and grabbed her messenger bag.

“Me, too,” David tried, but Stevie was already halfway out the door, pulling it closed behind her.

 

+++

 

David smelled pizza. He had a very keen nose for food-scents and that was definitely pizza and it was definitely from his favorite place in Elmdale. He brought his bag into the kitchen because he hadn't selected their entryway furniture yet.

“Pizza?” He called, then shook his head. “Patrick?” He corrected, but he wasn’t sorry.

“Up here!” He heard Patrick call from upstairs where he also hoped the pizza was. He was not going to be happy if he walked all the way upstairs to find out that the pizza was in fact still downstairs.

“Okay, but is the _pizza_ up here?” He tried to clarify as he walked up the freshly stained staircase.

“Yes, David, the pizza is up here” Patrick replied. “Come to the bedroom.”

“He said, providing no proof of pizza,” David muttered to himself. He hurried to the doorway of their bedroom, coming to a halt when he almost ran right into his fiance who was blocking his view of the room.

“Close your eyes,” Patrick said immediately.

“Hello to you, too,” David quipped but followed the direction.

“Oh, shoot, wait,” Patrick noted. David started to blink his eyes open. “No, keep your eyes closed but I’m going to kiss you.” He didn’t want to ambush David.

David let out a quick, surprised _‘okay’_ and then Patrick was kissing him. David had to fight to keep his eyes from fluttering open when Patrick pulled away.

“Okay,” Patrick said, gripping David’s shoulders.

“Okay...you’re taking me to the pizza?” 

“Nope. Surprise first, then pizza.”

David wasn’t quite on board with that order of events but Patrick’s tone was making him more indulgent than usual about postponing eating. He let Patrick pull him into the room, taking careful steps even though he knew nothing was in front of him (because they had so little furniture so far). He had a feeling where they were going, but he wanted to give Patrick the opportunity to present it to him. Patrick liked that kind of shit.

They stopped after a short amount of maneuvering and Patrick gave David’s shoulders a final squeeze before letting go. David heard him move around, heard some creaks of floorboards before Patrick spoke again.

“Okay open.” He sounded like he was barely containing his excitement.

David let his eyes blink open, gaze darting around the room before landing on where Patrick was standing in the new doorway to his very own walk-in closet.

“Oh my _god_.” He took a step closer as Patrick moved aside so he could see into the space. “...it’s ready?” David knew he was dramatically breathless but he couldn’t help it. He’d been having trouble picturing Patrick’s vision for the closet but trusted his fiancé to work out all the details. 

He walked right over and then _into_ his new closet, spinning around twice to get all the angles. It was a modest size but still bigger than David thought it would be. He was pretty confident it would fit most, if not all, of his stuff (not his knits, of course).

His fingers drifted over the built-in shelves, hands trailing along the wood until he reached a set of flatlay drawers. He pulled one out to feel the soft lining. There was a section for hangers where he could hang his jackets and the few designer button-downs he had. He considered allowing Patrick to hang some of his _many_ button downs in this space too. He felt a little guilty for taking all this space, because now that he was looking closer...the closet was big. He turned to look at the back side where there were deep drawers underneath several cubbies for his shoes.

Patrick’s footsteps came closer. “Is it...okay?” He asked, voice so quiet and unsure.

David whirled to look at Patrick standing in the _second_ doorway, eyes widening in disbelief.

“ _Patrick_ ,” he breathed. “It’s fucking _perfect.”_ He flung his arms around his neck, hugging him this side of too tight as Patrick pulled him in by the waist.

David felt the bubbly feeling in his chest surge, the one he’d been feeling since Patrick tricked him into hiking to the top of a mountain. The one that made him smile for no reason at all; made him feel like he would never be happier than in that single moment until the moment passed and he was still so fucking happy. He squeezed his eyes shut like it would settle his chest, stop it from bursting.

Patrick made a muffled noise against his neck. 

“...can’t breathe,” he teased and David pulled away, but only a little. He tugged Patrick close by the back of his neck, pressing their lips together in a soft kiss.

“Now. You know I would _love_ to blow you immediately after a presentation like this but, Patrick, you got _pizza_ and I can’t ignore it any longer.” David was pulling away as he said this, heading toward the bed where Patrick had set down the pizza.

“Sometimes I think you decided to marry me because you know I’ll keep you draped in the finest _takeout_.”

David hummed, half paying attention, working on choosing a slice from the pie. “Just you wait. Once the pizza is gone, it’s _your_ dick, in _my_ mouth, and then you’ll really know why I agreed to marry you.”

Patrick raised an eyebrow, “...for my dick...”

But David was halfway through a slice and already thinking about his next one and Patrick would have to wait.

 

+++

 

Patrick was having a Bad Day. On top of the general stress of living in a new neighborhood, planning a wedding, and intensive home renovations, he felt guilty about leaving David to run the store by himself all day, every day, going on two weeks, while he _supervised_ the construction.

And now, here was Ronnie telling him that their tub— _David’s_ tub, really, as he painstakingly selected every single thing about it down to the specific gold tone of the faucet and the _measurements_ that meant they could both fit into it—that Patrick had been waiting for all day, was not going to be delivered until the following week.

“Okay, what am I gonna do here, Ronnie?” He scrubbed his hands through his hair, which only reminded him that he was due for a haircut way too long ago. “I can’t have David come home to a tubless bathroom again.”

His relationship with Ronnie, while not 100% repaired from his wild social missteps during the store’s bathroom renovation, has vastly improved. He’d been leaning heavily on her, and she’d only called him a thumb once when he suggested linoleum for the kitchen floor (and David had agreed with that thumb sentiment). All in all, she was pretty easy to work with now that he understood more of how construction scheduling worked and just how many variables contributed to the completion (or not) of a project.

“Pat, I know delivery delays are tough, but it’s not like David could even use it tonight anyway.” She waved her hand around the room, and she did have a point. They had no sinks and no floor, and the fixtures in the shower hadn’t been installed yet. They’d been using the (refreshed) guest bathroom in the meantime, which wasn’t the worst as it was about the same size as the bathroom at Ray’s.

“But it’s the _gesture_ . David has been working at the store by himself for weeks and I was kind of hoping this could be like a ‘ _see it’s all going to be worth it’_ kind of thing.”

Ronnie didn’t respond.  She pushed past him to head down the stairs. Once in the kitchen, she helped herself to a cold iced tea from the fridge and threw herself into a chair at the kitchen table.

“Not that I care, Pat,” Ronnie started, “but I don’t think David needs all that. I mean. He seems—I dunno—really excited about every dumb thing you have to share. Hell, he listened to me talk about the guest bath vanity for 20 minutes and it wasn’t even delivered yet.”

Patrick was silent, but grabbed a beer from the fridge and sat down next to her.

She continued. “Listen, we installed the lighting in there today, and switched out the doorknobs. The counter is prepped for sinks and faucets, Marcy brought over the mirror, the tile samples—”

“Oh, the tile samples! David loves samples.”

“Mmm,” Ronnie grunted, uninterested. The sound of tires crunching up the gravel of the driveway called their attention toward the front door. “I’m out. I’ll let you know if I hear any updates about the tub." 

Patrick sighed. “Thanks, Ronnie. See you Monday?”

Ronnie tossed out a wave and opened the front door just as David was walking up the stairs to the porch. They greeted each other, and David thanked Ronnie, like he always did, for her help that day even though David wasn’t even there. Patrick smiled to himself and picked at the label on his beer bottle.

“Hi, honey!” David greeted him brightly. He dropped his stuff on one of their new entryway tables and heaved a breath. “What a day.”

 _Ah, shit_. Patrick had forgotten that it was Friday, which meant that David had probably received and stocked deliveries to prepare for Saturday, which was their busiest day. And now he was here for Patrick to break the news about the bathtub.

“How were things here?” David asked, sliding, as he did, into Patrick’s lap. David won’t admit it, but that’s why he bought the super sturdy solid wood chairs, sacrificing the budget for kitchen fixtures. To ensure they could hold their combined weights.

Patrick kissed him to try and soften the blow.

“I have...bad news, baby.”

David’s face fell, and it was crushing to be the one delivering the news that caused that look. “The tile samples didn’t come did they?” David asked.

Patrick startled, tugging David’s hips closer to rebalance on the chair. “Oh...no! I mean yes. The tile samples arrived, they’re upstairs.”

Climbing out of his lap, David grinned. “So, we can go look, yes?” He didn’t wait for an answer, just turned to head up the stairs.

“David, wait, about the bathroom.” 

He stopped and turned back. “What _about_ the bathroom?” He was giving Patrick his nervous eyebrows now.

“Well...it’s—the tub didn’t get delivered today,” Patrick muttered, bracing himself for Sad David.

David blinked at him. “Um, cause of the big accident on the highway?” He moved another step towards the stairs like he was itching to get his hands on his tiles. 

“Accident?”

“Uh, yeah my dad told me he wasn’t stopping by to pick up his order today because the replacement shelving for their housekeeping closet hadn’t been delivered because of the accident on the freeway. So. Is that why the tub got delayed?”

“I—guess so? Ronnie didn’t exactly elaborate.” 

“Okay, but—the _tile samples_ .” David gestured wildly, wrists reaching Alexis-levels of limpness. “The tile samples _are_ here, right?”

Patrick let out a bark of laughter and shook his head. “Yeah, they’re here.” He stood to grab David’s hand, giving it a squeeze, and took him upstairs where he would sit and listen to David talk for 90 minutes about bathroom floors.

 

+++

 

“Doing great, honey!” David called to Patrick from his spot on their patio chaise. It was late afternoon, and they’d returned from the store not long ago—Saturdays they closed a little after lunch. Patrick was finishing his final big backyard project: putting in a fire pit. And David was doing what he did best: offering his unwavering and unconditional support of his soon-to-be husband.

Patrick grinned, eyes clear and bright and happy, and he wiped his brow with the back of his hand.

David didn’t have any idea what step Patrick was on, or how many were left, but he liked the fresh air and his cold drink and the extended awning that was shielding him from the afternoon sun.

“Ding ding!” Stevie called as she opened the front door. David told her, again, that the joke was old and _not funny_ anymore, but Stevie disagreed and wouldn’t give it up.

“Patrick thinks it’s funny.” She tossed a bag of tortilla chips onto the counter.

David picked it up by the corner. “And what is this?”

Stevie stared him down. “You told me to bring an appetizer for your housewarming party." 

He squinted dramatically. “ _This_ is not an appetizer.”

“Well no of course not,” she agreed, reaching into her bag to pull out a jar of startlingly yellow cheese dip and placed in front of David. “That’s an appetizer.” She tapped the lid with a sense of finality.

David opened his mouth to _strongly_ disagree, but Stevie was already walking away to ‘ _see if Patrick needs help with the fire’_ as if _that_ was a good idea.

The party was in full swing and David was happy. Okay, so he was 3 glasses of wine deep, but he didn’t think that was why.  Dinner was over—Patrick had manned the grill valiantly—and everyone was gathered in clusters in the backyard enjoying what was left of the summer evening sun. Patrick and Ronnie were drinking beers with Bob near the fire pit.

David watched his fiancé roast marshmallows that he hoped were really for him. His fiancé, who appeared to be riveted by a story that Ronnie was telling (while also keeping a close eye on David’s marshmallow). Patrick’s eyes were warm and light as he laughed—almost cackling over the music they had playing—at the punchline of Ronnie’s story. David felt a flash of big, messy emotion roll through his whole body, so he turned back towards Twyla and Stevie to distract himself.

Patrick turned his attention away from Ronnie. The marshmallows were ready. He left two undressed, but placed the second two on a layered graham-chocolate base and topped it (heh) with a second graham. David didn’t know there was s’mores stuff—Patrick had only let on about the marshmallows and David wasn’t paying any attention at all the whole time they were in the grocery store. He never did, but Patrick liked to have him there anyway. Every once in a while David would grab something that they needed, that was mistakenly left off the list, and Patrick would _have_ to press his thank you against David’s lips when they inevitably wandered into the bakery section. 

He stood to make his way around the fire, over to David and Stevie and Twyla. He sat on one of the fake tree trunk stump-chairs that he’d _begged_ David to let him buy despite their _‘unrelenting and offensive tackiness.’_ And David had acquiesced only after Patrick pulled out what David referred to as his ‘earnest eyes.’ David called him _unfair_ and _tasteless_ and left him in the store to check out by himself.

Patrick settled in next to David (who was not sitting on a stump-chair) and pressed his shoulder against David’s own, announcing his presence. David turned, eyes bright, and grinned—the same grin he gave Patrick during their soft-turned-at-least-semi-firm opening. He snuck a hand out to give Patrick’s side a quick squeeze as he tried to keep listening to Twyla’s most recent story about her mom’s boyfriend.

Patrick held up the plate of toasted goodies and watched David give him his full attention. His face morphed into the most delighted look he had—the look he always gave him when presented with an edible surprise. Patrick laughed because that look was the only reason he ever did anything anymore. He woke up every morning with the love of his life hoping he’d be able to see David give him that look. David deserved that—he deserved it so much every day. He saved Patrick, so he deserves surprise treats and his perfect coffee order and never-ending pizza, and anything else he wanted—forever.

David, flushed from the wine and the fire and the company, grabbed Patrick’s cheeks between his palms and pulled him in for a lingering kiss, warm and lush, before he remembered the snack and tugged his lips away abruptly.

“I love you,” he said, voice too soft for the noise in the backyard, but Patrick heard him anyway.

“I love _you_ ,” Patrick echoed.

“I was talking to the s’mores.” David relieved him of the plate and turned back to the conversation, but leaned into Patrick again. Despite David’s love declaration for the dessert, Patrick couldn’t keep the smile off his face. He watched David tell the story of the time Patrick surprised him with a trip to a pastry tasting in Elmdale. Patrick thought David was going to lose his mind when they got there, a look of pure fucking joy on his face as they walked in and he saw every baked good imaginable just ready to taste.

Patrick put his arm around David’s shoulders and pressed closer to touch his lips to David’s temple, leaning his forehead there to watch David recount the story. Patrick reached out to steady David’s arm when he nearly lost his last marshmallow to one of his more wild gestures. He picked it up and held it out for David to take a bite.

“You guys are so fuckin’ gross,” Stevie commented, voice slightly slurred from her (specially bought) whiskey. Patrick smiled, somewhat smugly because he knew they were _super_ gross and he loved it. David’s shoulders did the little shimmy-shake they did when he was extra pleased about something and he closed his teeth around the marshmallow and pulled it into his grinning mouth.

Daylight peeked through the gap in the curtains that Patrick forgot to pull all the way closed the night before. He shifted, stretching, enjoying the space in their new bed as David snored next to him. It was a little early to wake his fiance--and Patrick felt his stomach swoop when he thought about how close he was to having (and being!) a _husband_.

He’d worried about moving and renovations at the same time as planning a wedding, but things were going really well. Stevie and Johnny had hired help at the motel, so Stevie became available to work some hours at the store to cover or help either of them when the other was off handling house or wedding stuff.  

He glanced over at David, the side of his face pressed into his too-fluffy pillow. He was laying on his front but he was facing Patrick. His eyelashes were dark against the skin of his cheeks. His hair was somehow flattened and wild at the same time, flopped over the top of his head against his pillowcase.

Patrick bit his lip and looked around, hilariously, as if someone was going to appear in their bedroom and catch him ogling his fiance. David made an adorable, sleepy sound that Patrick was definitely going to tease him about later.

He grabbed his phone from the nightstand, noticing a few Instagram messages pop up on his lock screen. Someone must have posted their pictures from the barbecue because Patrick remembers posing for _a lot_. He remembers both David and Alexis asking to see every single photo that was taken, and even demanding that certain ones be deleted for this reason or that.

He was so caught up—half remembering the way David subconsciously rearranged his hair between photos—that he almost didn’t notice it. Nestled between a posed photo of Alexis and Ted and an _artistic_ photo of the firepit on Stevie’s account, was a candid. Of David and Patrick. He tapped the photo, which was posted on Alexis’s account.

David’s in the middle of a smirk, in the snap, mouth open slightly as Patrick holds out a marshmallow to him. Patrick is giving David what Stevie has taught him to recognize as heart eyes. He can see the laugh lines around David’s mouth, can see the crinkles near his own eyes, and wonders how Alexis got close enough to take this without either of them noticing. There’s a smear of chocolate on David’s face that he’d be appalled to see, and Patrick traced it on his phone screen.

Patrick is pulled from his phone as David shifted again, still asleep, blankets falling to his waist. He pulled the blankets back up to David’s shoulders because David insisted on keeping the air at the lowest possible temperature so he could be freezing, on purpose, while sleeping. Patrick didn’t really understand it. Part of him thought it was an excuse to cuddle more but then decided that David never really needed an excuse for anything. He would just demand cuddles (which he does) and Patrick would, of course, oblige (which he does).

He turned his attention back to his phone to keep scrolling when his eye caught on the excessive string of emojis in the caption of Alexis’s photo. He never tried to decipher her pictographs, so he was glad there were also real words there.

‘ _The fire is making you both look really good, but you have chocolate on your face. Ew, David.’_

Patrick let out a soft huff of laughter, his smile threatening to break his face, and David moved again. He blinked his eyes open, looking impossibly adorable, and smiled drowsily. Two idiots smiling dopily at each other in the too-early morning.

“Hi,” David breathed, body stretching beneath the covers.

“Hey.” Patrick tossed his phone back on the nightstand. He reached out to gently card his fingers through David’s hair, watching his face flush prettily at the gesture. “You want breakfast?”

“Mm. Do we have any more marshmallows?”

 

+++

 

“You’re...cooking?” Patrick asked, heavy skepticism implied, as he dropped his keys and wallet onto the table inside the front door. “Finally breaking in the kitchen six months later, huh?”

“Mm—it’s one of those meal kit things! I used the code they had on the sports podcast that I generously allowed you to play in the car a few weeks ago.”

Patrick huffed out a laugh and made his way into the kitchen to peer over David’s shoulder. He had a bunch of little containers spread across the counter and his hands wrist deep in a bowl of dark, leafy greens.

“Okay...” Patrick pressed a kiss to David’s shoulder. "You look very competent with this set-up here.” He gestured to the counter at large.

David’s eyes fluttered under the praise as he continued whatever his hands were meant to be doing in the bowl.

“Mmhmm, yeah, I’m especially impressed at the inclusion of vegetables,” Patrick’s voice went low and teasing, and David felt a familiar warmth in his chest.

“It’s not for lack of trying,” he explained. “They don’t offer meals without them.” His smile was falsely sweet but Patrick’s expression remained fond as he nodded.

“So what’s on the menu, then, Chef?”

David gestured to the cardstock recipe on the counter. “It’s beef and black bean fajita salad with kale.”

“Ooh, talk to me more about _kale_.” Patrick dragged his lips along David’s cheek.

David, looking unimpressed, grabbed a towel to wipe his hands. He turned to face his boyfriend. “Keep it up, veggie boy, and I’ll eat the whole thing without you.” 

Patrick pouted exaggeratedly and wound his arms around David’s waist—and David let Patrick change his mind with a press of his lips and a slide of his tongue.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to the SC discord peeps for like. Being you. <3


End file.
